


The Silver Lake Catnapper

by krispino



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krispino/pseuds/krispino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris steals a kitten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Silver Lake Catnapper

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever Pinto fic! It's based on [this](http://www.nationalenquirer.com/mike-walker/chris-pine-pussy-thief) article from the National Enquirer. Totally legit. 
> 
> Super special awesome thanks to Semper, who encouraged me to take the plunge and gave me a good kitten name.

“So I, uh, I stole a kitten.”

“ _What?_ ”

Zach stops in the middle of the sidewalk, his paper cup leaning precariously in his right hand as he gestures wide as though Chris were standing right in front of him.

“Well, I didn’t really _steal_ it, although apparently the National Enquirer has decided I’m some kind of ‘pussy thief’.”

This time, Zach cringes. “Okay, never say _that_ again.”

“Anyway, I was on my bike and– _ow_ –and there was this little kitten in the road, so I stopped to say hi, and then this little girl ran up–”

“You stole a kitten from a little girl?”

“I just said I didn’t actually steal it! Pay attention, Zachary. Ow, shit.”

Zach can only assume that the kitten in question is not only still in Chris’s possession, but that it is also very playful. It serves him right, he thinks, except that the image of Chris with a fluffy kitten is tooth achingly adorable and apparently it’s possible to be both exasperated and besotted all at the same time. He takes a sip of his latte and starts walking again, this time in the opposite direction, like he already knows exactly how this conversation is going to end.

“So she runs up and accuses me of stealing her kitten, but her dad said it wasn’t actually hers, just a stray that hangs around the neighborhood. I suggested that they adopt it but the guy gave me this dirty look–”

“What a jerk.”

“I know, right? He gave me the look and told his kid they weren’t adopting a kitten. So I said ‘sorry, no problem’ and put it in my pocket and pedeled off.”

“That is the most ridiculous cat story I have ever heard.”

“You can’t make this stuff up, man. _Ow._ I have the scars to prove it.”

“So why did you call me?”

“Because you’re the only cat expert I know.”

“I have _a_ cat, Chris,” Zach says, rolling his eyes even though Chris can’t see him. “One.”

“That’s still more than I have! Or had, I guess. Anyway, you’re like the only guy I know who’s a cat person _and_ I know you’re in LA for that… thing, whatever. Can you help me out?”

Zach grimaces and sighs, like it’s an immensely difficult decision. Like he isn’t already halfway to his temporary apartment to pick up his car and drive to Chris’s house. This is what he’s been trying to avoid for the last two days–not kittens, but Chris, who is half the reason he moved across the country in the first place. Because unrequited pining over an actual Pine hurts like hell and being around him is only going to make it worse, just when he was finally starting to get better.

But because it’s Chris and because he’s Zach, there was only ever going to be one answer.

“I’ll be there in twenty. Try not to get yourself clawed to death before I get there.”

 

* * *

 

When the door opens, the first thing Zach notices are the red marks all along Chris’s forearms. “Looks like someone had fun.”

“You could say that,” Chris answers dryly. He steps aside to let Zach in and then leads him down the hall toward the living room. He stops short in the entryway, lips curling into a frown as he surveys the room. “She was just here.”

“You left her alone in this massive room and you’re surprised she’s gone?”

“Hey, I brought you here to help, not to criticize me. Now help me find her.”

Chris climbs down on his hands and knees to look under the couch and Zach can’t help but watch for a moment, the same way he can’t help but notice the way Chris’s pants fit quite snugly even from the back. Zach doesn’t let his gaze linger for long and moves across the room to look behind a few potted plants. The kitten isn’t there. She isn’t under the couch, either, or hidden beneath the coffee table. In the end, Chris is the one who finds her tucked away on the bottom shelf of a bookcase, curled up fast asleep in a tiny ball.

“You might want to consider getting her a bed,” Zach suggests. He reaches out and gently strokes the top of the kitten’s head with one finger; she stirs and burrows deeper into the crook of Chris’s arm but doesn’t wake up.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

Amidst the adoration, Chris’s expression is mildly uncertain, like he isn’t sure if he’s holding the kitten the right way, or if he’s even holding a kitten at all. It reminds Zach strongly of the look of a first time father, full of love and tempered by a bout of trepidation. Luckily, taking care of a kitten isn’t nearly as difficult as taking care of a human baby. And that’s what he’s there for, right? To help and wipe the uncertainty right off of Chris’s face.

“Does she at least know where her litter box is?”

“Uh, what?”

“Her litter box? You know, that places where she does her business?”

“Yeah, I don’t have one of those.”

Zach sighs. This is going to be tougher than he thought. “If she pees in the rental, I’m going to kill you.”

“I don’t think she can get into your car, Zach,” Chris says with a laugh.

“Well, you can’t leave her here by herself.”

“Where are we going? I’m not taking her to the pound!” Chris puts a protective hand over the kitten and turns slightly away from Zach, expression scandalized.

“Relax, Pine. We’re just going to the pet store. Unless you happen to have a secret closet full of kitten supplies you haven’t told me about, you’re going to need some stuff.”

Chris makes Zach hold the kitten while he buckles himself in–which Zach is exasperated about until he remembers the last time they got tacos together–and then they are off. Halfway there, the kitten wakes up and claws her way up Chris’s chest and over his shoulder, burrowing against his neck and biting it in turns.

“Ow! Why is she doing that?” Chris’s shoulders instinctively raise and the kitten tumbles back down into his arms again.

“It’s just a kitten thing, I think,” Zach answers, eyes briefly darting over to his passengers before turning back to the road. “She’ll outgrow it. Harold did the same thing when he was a kitten.”

Zach makes a left turn and they pull into a tiny parking lot. Chris has an easier time getting out of the car with a cat than he did getting in. When he finally gets a gander of the building, his eyebrows shoot up before he glances over at Zach and shakes his head a bit, lips curling into a small smile.

“What?” Zach says defensively. “I used to come here all the time before I moved to New York.”

“Of course you did.”

Zach pouts all the way across the parking lot but it disappears the moment they step through the door. The shop is small, more of a mom-and-pop type of place, although he thinks they have a few other locations; it caters mostly to dogs and cats, merchandise arranged in quirky displays declaring it to be locally made, 100% organic, and corn-free. The woman behind the register greets them with a cheery hello when they enter and turns back to counting her till. That’s another reason Zach always liked this place so much; here, he doesn’t have to be _Zachary Quinto, movie star_. He’s just Zach, the guy with three furry friends to feed. He picks up a basket and together, he and Chris wind their way through the aisles.

“Did you feed her at all?” Zach asks.

“Just a few scraps of leftover chicken,” Chris says. The kitten is squirming in his hands and he struggles a moment, trying to grip her tighter but not enough to squish her. “It was all I had.”

“Sounds like she’s probably ready for dry food. You’ll want to feed her this, then,” he says, grabbing a small bag of kitten chow off the shelf. “I think for the first year or so. It’s the same brand I feed Harold.”

“Ooo, look at these! Low fat and high protein.” Chris holds up a bag of treats that the kitten is already sniffing at eagerly and grins. He chucks them into the basket and moves down the aisle and around the corner. “Toys!”

They spend another twenty minutes in front of the toys in which Chris dangles different ones in from the of the kitten and lets her decide which ones she likes best. By the time they make it to the litter supplies, the kitten is getting worked up again, recharged from her nap and antsy with the allure of shiny new toys and smelly treats. The woman at the register ooo's and aww's over the kitten and the three of them spend a moment fawning together.

The trip back to Chris’s house seems to go smoother than the ride to the pet store; Chris has figured out the best way to hold the kitten, cradling her bottom and under her stomach so that she can’t wriggle out of his grasp.

“She’s so tiny,” Chris says, almost absently. “I can’t believe she was out on her own. Think her mom abandoned her?”

“Maybe,” Zach says. “Or she could have gotten separated. Who knows. Why did you decide to take her, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Chris says with a shrug. He’s not looking at Zach, though; he’s still staring down at the kitten. He looks like a father again, only this time the anxiousness is gone and there is only complete and utter adoration. Chris has always said he was a dog person but apparently all it takes is the right cat. “I guess when that guy said they weren’t going to adopt her, I couldn’t just leave her out on her own, you know? She might not have made it.”

“As far as reasons to steal a kitten go, I’d say that’s a pretty good one.”

Chris gives Zach’s shoulder a gentle punch. “Shut up, man.”

 

* * *

 

“She needs a name,” Zach says.

They are sitting on the couch, a careful distance between them, watching the kitten bat around a feathered ball on the floor. Chris had set up the litter box, following the instructions on the back of the litter bag to a T, but after the kitten had mostly played in it, the three of them had retreated back into the living room. Now, Chris thoughtfully scratches his chin.

“Maude,” he says after a moment. He turns to Zach with a crooked smile. “As in, Harold and–”

“–and Maude,” Zach finishes. His own face blooms into a smile. He knows he shouldn’t read anything into it but that doesn’t stop him. Harold and Maude. Two halves of a whole, just like he and Chris were. Are. He isn’t so sure anymore now that there are 2,475 miles between them. (Zach knows, he googled it and memorized the number the first time he’d even considered making New York his permanent residence.)

The kitten–Maude–runs over and starts attacking his shoelaces. Zach picks her up and Chris scoots close, their knees bumping together as he reaches over to attempt to pet her between her swatting paws.

“I missed this, you know,” Chris says. He’s still playing with the kitten, still looking at her, but his face is solemn.

“When have we ever played with a kitten together?” Zach is being evasive and he knows it, but he also knows that Chris doesn’t mean what he wants him to mean.

“No. I miss… _this_. Hanging out with you.” Chris runs a hand through his hair. “I know you did it for your career, but I wish you hadn’t moved to New York.”

“Me too.” Zach says it before he can stop himself. “I mean, I love New York, but I miss L.A.” _I miss you_ , is what he wants to say, but he can’t.

“Do you think you’ll ever come back?”

Zach wonders if he’s imagining the hope in Chris’s voice. “No.”

He can’t come back, not if Los Angeles is still Chris’s city. And it will always be Chris’s city; even if Chris moved away forever, the air would still be full of him, pouring into the cracks of every sidewalk and the eaves of every house whose architecture Chris has explained to him ad nauseum. L.A. is in Chris’s blood.

“What if it was for the right person? Would you do it then?”

“Maybe.”

“ _Is_ there a right person?”

“There is for me. But I don’t think I’m the right person for him.”

It hurts to say it out loud. Chris can’t possibly know who he’s talking about, but keeping it bottled up inside is somehow easier to ignore; he can shove it down into the deepest, darkest places of himself where there are no witnesses. Now, there is at least one person who knows that his heart isn’t as whole as it ought to be. It is a chink in his armor that he doesn’t want exposed, especially by the person who put it there in the first place.

“Would you think they were selfish?” Chris asks. Maude has fallen asleep in Zach’s hands but Chris is still staring at her. It’s an excuse not to look at him and Zach feels the same swell of hope and dread and doesn’t let himself wonder why Chris won’t look at him. “If they asked you to come back, I mean. The right person.”

“Yes,” Zach says honestly. “But I’d probably forgive them. The right person.”

Chris doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches out and gingerly picks up Maude, cuddling her on his own lap. “Stay.”

“What?” Zach’s hands curl into tight fists against his thighs, eyes snapping up to Chris, who is staring back at him with the sort of determination that doesn’t quite mask the fear in his eyes.

“I said stay. Here, in L.A. Move back. Just… stay. I want you to stay.”

“You can’t just ask me to stay.”

“You said you would. You might, for the right person.”

“And I never said that was _you_.” Zach’s voice has a dangerous edge to it. This is uncharted territory and he has the feeling that in whatever is about to happen, he won’t walk away the winner.

“I know, Zach.”

“You don’t know _anything_ –”

“Yeah, actually, I do know! Do you think you flirted with yourself every time we went to Europe? Or that I didn’t notice the way you looked at me? I was there, too. And I felt it too. And I’m asking you if you still feel it now.”

It’s too much. Zach climbs to his feet and walks away from the couch. He isn’t sure which is more difficult to believe–that this is a conversation that they are actually happening, or that there’s a chance that this could end the way he’s always wanted it to end.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Zach finally asks, turning to face Chris, who at least has the decency to look at him. “If you knew how I felt and felt the same way, why didn’t you do anything?”

“I didn’t want to ruin what we already had,” Chris says. He looks like the words are painful to say. “I thought… I thought if something happened between us and it went sour, then everything would be fucked up, and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. But then I just lost you anyway.”

It’s the worst answer. It paints him to be the good guy, the one who put his feelings on hold so they could enjoy what they already had. And it feels like a cop-out or some kind of line, but Chris’s face seems genuine and earnest. Zach can’t help but believe him even though the skeptic in him wonders if he should. Chris has never wronged him before. It would be the lowest of blows to start now, with this.

“I can’t move back to L.A., Chris,” Zach says carefully. He watches Chris’s face fall and bites his lip to keep himself from taking it back. “I just moved to New York. I’ve got projects starting up left and right. And this is… this is out of nowhere. I can’t just uproot my life like that.”

“Yeah. No, I understand.” His voice tells Zach that he doesn’t. Or that he does but wishes that he didn’t.

“But…” Zach trails off and takes a deep breath. This could be the worst decision he’s ever made, or it could be the best. There is only one way to find out. “Maybe we can work something out. I could come visit more often. You could come to New York. We could meet halfway.”

“Okay,” Chris says. His face flickers with a smile, tentative and barely there but a smile all the same.

Zach watches him for a moment before he walks back to the couch, settling down next to Chris. The careful distance between them is gone; their thighs brush, the hard knobs of their knees bumping together. In Chris’s lap, Maude stirs and curls into an even tighter ball of sleep. Zach’s eyes trail away from the kitten and up Chris’s torso, settling first on his lips and then on his stupidly blue eyes.

They are kissing before he knows what’s happening. Chris’s lips are soft and warm and inviting. Zach could kiss him for days, for years; New York suddenly feels a million miles away and he can’t help but wonder how they have missed out on this for so long.

“We’ll have to introduce them,” Chris mumbles against his mouth. Zach can feel the curve of his smile.

“Who?”

“Harold and Maude.”

Zach hums his agreement. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad you’re a kitten thief.”

“Me too.”


End file.
